


Cyclical

by davefoley



Series: a very brief saga [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davefoley/pseuds/davefoley
Summary: It all comes together like this:
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Series: a very brief saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610497
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Cyclical

“You know this isn’t new waters,” he says as your fingers deft as they are, catch on the buttons of his jacket. Catches the buttons and releases them. “I’ve been with men before.”

“Really,” you deadpan, pulling open his jacket to reveal his crisp white shirt. Too many buttons. Too little time. “There’s a part of me that isn’t surprised.”

“My hedonist reputation precedes me by that much?” He doesn’t think much of it you realize, maybe that’s why he compliments you so well despite all your rejection of this fact. Your acceptance probably took as long winded as the creation of the damned buttons you’re trying to undo.

“Maybe it’s just the gay way you carry yourself.” You answer quite bluntly because you’ve finally got the shirt open and he’s not reeling, no he’s not reeling back he’s here for you, devastatingly simple in his construction. Gaping as he is, baited for you, you find the doughiness of his stomach in a helpless way entrancing. Does it defy his image? How you scale his suits to reveal the flesh underneath? Quite the opposite. A man as inundated with pleasure as he is, needs to have the bulk to support it. It’s natural to a well fed man that a starving one would look quite different.

You are a starving man.

He tuts. “If gay means jovial, affable, pleasant... then I may be the gayest man in town.” He’s especially “pleasant” as your hands careen down the plains of his abdomen. He has told you in fascinating different ways, how much of a tactile person he is. He has never lied about this. Unlike other things.

“Tell me Napoleon,” you say, with his jaw between your teeth. “Do you think about where we are right now? Do you think about what it took for things to fall right here?”

Currently, Napoleon struggles to undo his belt under your body’s urging and tempting weight over him. He doesn’t want to think. Things just come along as they are, much like you did, passing the Iron Curtain on a slow cruise. You left it unperturbed, that’s enough — he was practically wafting around in a sea of empty space waiting for you and of anything else that would humour him.

This was enough silence to think longingly, of the people who have crafted those buttons you were having trouble with. Of the people who packaged those buttons over to the people who sewed them onto the crisp white shirt, and then to the people who put it up on the racks so he could eventually pick it up in his hands at his favourite department store.

He bites back a soft sigh when you grab him down there.

It took all of that to get to here for you to feel frustrated and it feels endless. It was an inevitability anything would be where it was and now is this or that or there. But you guess it doesn’t matter. Even a starving man can lie back on his island and wait for something from boats way out there carrying shipments of buttons or shirts to wash up and feed him, something to wash up and make him foam in the waters.

“I believe this is the part where I ask you if this is what you want, so,” you ask him while he flops around on the couch, taking his pants off and the socks and shoes with it. “Tell me Napoleon, if this is what you want.”

And as much as he gasps for air on dry land he kisses you like you’re refreshing. It’s not a yes but there’s no time for yes’es and no’s when the waves crash upon the both of you and take you to the boats for deliverance.

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully this makes sense just felt like writing smth


End file.
